A New Era
by 100gamesvictor
Summary: The 75th Hunger Games resulted in the Death of Katniss and Haymich. District 13 and anyone in the Capitol who's a rebel is dead. How will the tributes of the 76th Hunger Games survive the arena?
1. A Reaping to Remember

"For the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them can't overcome the might of the Capitol, the tributes this year will be reaped from the existing pool of victors." When President Snow finished, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

_No one I know will be in the Games_ I think. My family's safe. I take a deep breath and hug my sister tightly.

Our mother is looks at us, a small smile on her face and tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. She wraps her arms around us and says "I'm so happy that I get to keep both my children."

I say in her ear. "You'll never lose us mom. We'll always stick together."

* * *

><p><em>Day of the Reaping<em>

I file into the square alongside everyone else. The air is filled with relief. Of course there's relief. No one's in danger of getting reaped. Everyone feels safe. The bodies are packed together, making getting to the front a near impossibility.

At last I manage to squeeze myself through the crevices in between people to get to the front. There, in the middle of the square stand three people.

Katniss Everdeen. Her hair is in a braid down her back. She is wearing a dress made of green silk that cones to her knees. Her shoulders are set. The intense aura radiating off of her is vibrating through the air.

Peeta Mellark. His dirty blonde hair is shaggy and he has a similar aura to Katniss. I notice that he keeps shooting Katniss glances. His eyes are wide and open, conveying nothing but love for her.

Haymich Abernathy. The usual drunken man that is seen at the reapings has disappeared. In his place was someone new. His previously shaggy dark hair is cut short and combed neatly. His face is free of stubble, the clean shaven look defining his face. He seems to be completely sober. There are light circles under his eyes, probably from lack of sleep. His eyes, however, are sharp and alive. The usual dull of alcohol replaces with a violent gray. He is wearing a clean and crisp gray suit. It somehow makes his previously paunchy body look professional.

There, on the stage, is Effie Trinket. She bounces onto the stage in a golden wig. However, the spring in her step that was there last year seems to have diminished. The smile plastered on her white face is oddly tight and forced.

She shoots glances at the victors throughout the entire wait. I could be wrong, but I believe that there is a single solitary tear running down her cheek as she looks at them.

When she is announced by the Mayor, she gets up and stiffly walks over to the podium. There is a slight tremble in her step, and her knees seem to be giving out. She grips the podium tightly for support.

"Happy Hunger Games," Effie says this, the tremble apparent in her voice. "Let's get right down to the reaping." She stiffly walks over to the big glass ball with only one name in it.

My eyes widen in realization. She never said her catchphrase, 'may the odds be _ever_ in your favor.' She must really care about those three.

It takes her a minute to catch the single solitary piece of paper in the reaping ball. Everyone already knows what it says. She walks over to the podium in the same manner as before and reads the name unnecessarily.

"Katniss Everdeen."

Katniss, the 'girl on fire' as the Capitol called her, walks up to the stage. The way she moves only emphasizes her tense demeanor. She reaches the stage and swoops around to face the crown, and the cameras, head on.

Effie smiles slightly tearfully. "Let's say hello to Katniss Everdeen, everybody."

There is a small round of applause. No one can really say that they're happy. Effie seems to understand this.

"Let's see our boy tribute."

Once again, she bobbles over to a reaping ball and pulls out a name. She goes back to the podium and reads.

"Peeta Mellark."

A slight sigh runs through the crowd. And so ends the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve. Until…

"I volunteer!"

My head snaps in the direction of the voice, along with every other head in the district.

Haymich Abernathy, the old man who won the 50th Hunger Games is running up to the stage.

I turn my attention back to the stage to see the reactions. Katniss is smiling slightly, he expression laced with gratitude. Effie's face lights up for a moment at the thought of Peeta surviving, but it soon falls at the thought of Haymich's death, I assume. Peeta stands there, wide eyes and mouth agape, staring at Haymich. The shock is quickly replaced with betrayal.

With a sigh, Peeta steps aside, letting Haymich take the place next to Effie. He then steps back and stands next to the mayor, watching Katniss, utter longing laced his features.

It must be hard, I think, to love someone and them not knowing until you're faced with death. Then, when you both survive and think you'll get a happy ending, she's taken from under you. I begin to feel newfound pity for Peeta. He must know, along with everyone else that Katniss will never come back to District Twelve. She will die in the arena, no matter how hard he tries to save her, she'll die. She's too much trouble.

Haymich and Katniss forgo shaking hands when told to. Instead, they embrace in a tight hug, clinging to each other like a father clinging his daughter for fear of never seeing her again.

I knew Katniss vaguely from her time living in the Seam. Her father died in a mining accident six years ago. I don't know how it affected her, but I knew they were close. I realize now, seeing her hugging Haymich, that she has a new father, though they share no blood.

The Treaty of Treason is read by the mayor and they're escorted to the Justice building. With one last look at the pair of them, being hauled into the Justice building like prisoners, I turn around and follow everyone else. I lose myself in the sea of people heading for the Seam, knowing that we are all about to lose two of our own.


	2. Talking With Family

I walk into the house, my feet shuffling across the dirty and rickety floor. I have just walked a quarter of a mile from the Square. In the kitchen of our rundown home is my mother. She is kneading the dough of the tesseara grain.

I hear the door to the kitchen slam shut behind me. "Hi sweetie!" my mom says in a chipper voice.

"Hi mom. Where's Camilla?" I would have thought that she would be back by now.

My mom shrugs, still facing the window and sink. The scrub, scrub, scrub of the dishes is clearly distinguished in the calm of the house.

"I don't know. She said she was going over to Vick Hawthorne's house. I think she wanted to keep him company. You know, because his family was so close to Katniss."

I nod; I think that the families of those in the Games will be the most affected. I mean, they already nearly lost them to the Games, and now they will lose them again. "Okay, do you know when she'll be home?"

"I think she said before dark."

I plop myself down on one of the rickety chairs in the kitchen. It creaks under my weight and wobbles slightly. My mom swerves around, her dark hair flying. "Don't just _plop_ yourself down like that! The chair could break." She holds the wooden spoon up in a mock threatening stance. Her face scrunches up like she just sucked on a lemon. I can't help it.

I laugh.

I start hollering buoyantly, finding it difficult to breathe through the laughter. I lean my head on the table to try to catch my breath. I see my mother collapse in a fit of giggles. She always says laughing is contagious. She leans on the counter top to stop herself from falling over. We just stay there laughing our heads off for no reason.

After what seems to be hours, though it is probably only minutes, there is a sharp knock on the door. My mother pushes herself u right, and walks to answer it, still giggling as she goes.

I hear voices in the other room. My mom is saying hello to someone. However, I can't hear more than that.

I hear footsteps coming towards me. Then, the door opens and my mom enters, followed by a woman with black hair and gray eyes like my mom. In fact, they resemble each other more than I do my mother. However, that is not surprising because my mother was born and raised in the poorest part of District Twelve, the Seam. My father, whom I resemble greatly, was from the small merchant class.

He was born to the family that owned the grocery store. He lived there his entire life. All of his friends were merchants. His parents arranged for him to marry a childhood friend of his that was in love with him. At the time, he consented to the relationship because he loved her. However, he met my mother soon after. I can't even imagine how much he loved her.

He called off his marriage to the other girl. I believe that his parents could stomach that alright. However, when he brought my mother home and said that he wanted to marry her, his parents were infuriated. My dad once told me that they started screeching at my dad. They yelled at him for ever even _thinking_ of marrying 'Seam trash' and to call off the engagement. When he told them no, the kicked him out of the house. He went to live in the Seam with my mother.

Like all merchant kids, he had blond hair and blue eyes, which I inherited. I always found it strange that that occurred. It always interested me that the blond haired children always seemed to find love among themselves. The division confounds me. The thought that the color of your hair and eyes, or where you live, could be important in determining who is a fit spouse.

I know this woman. Everything about her is familiar. Her gray eyes the color of the sky during a storm, her silky black hair that reaches down her back. She's my aunt.

Hazelle.

I hastily get up out of my seat and fling my arms around her in a tight embrace. She was my mother's best friend. When my father died alongside my uncle, Gregory, she and my mother became even closer than they were before.

"Aunt Hazelle, how are you?" She's not really my aunt, but I've known her for so long that it just fits.

She pulls back, looking at me with an eyebrow raised. "Weren't you at the reaping this morning?"

I sigh. "I meant, how are you holding up?"

She smiles. "Ohh," she gives me a kiss on the cheek and says "better than Gale."

I understand what she means. It isn't a secret in our family, or with anyone who knows them, that Gale is in love with Katniss. The thing that I realized when watching her Games last year though, was that she loves Peeta, and she always would. My cousin was just putting himself through pointless pain. She would never choose him, even if she survived.

My mom steps in. "So, what is it that you wanted?"

Hazelle detaches herself from me to turn to my mom. "I was wondering if you would care to watch the Games with us this year. The Everdeens are coming over and I think that Gale could the support."

My mother watches Hazelle. I look closer than usual. Behind the façade of the witty woman that I have always known, it is apparent that she's fighting tears. Her entire demeanor looks completely normal. Only someone that knows her really well would pick it up. The arch of her eyebrow was slightly lower than usual. Her tongue frequently licked her bottom lip. All signs of great sadness.

It's blatantly obvious that she's scared for Katniss. I guess that she realizes along with everyone else that Katniss isn't coming home.

My mom nods. "Alright."


End file.
